


Fate, And Other Lies of the Blind

by Maesonry



Series: Semaphore [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, The Batman who Laughs - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Damian Wayne-centric, Dark Nights: The Batman Who Laughs, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry
Summary: “I can see your future,” she says, like it means something. “I’m sorry.”Damian’s family is dead. His father is insane, killing everything in his path. Part of him wants to simply give up and join his father; but Tiresias, the only one left with him, is nothing if not tenacious.“We will get out of this,” she promises. For once, Damian believes her.An AU where Damian doesn’t become a Rabid Robin in Earth-22.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tiresias & Damian Wayne
Series: Semaphore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783315
Comments: 32
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow ok so. The Batman Who Laughs is really fucked up. But what bothered me most is that Damian is casually brushed off with a “oh he decided to join his father.” I figured I’d work with that. So I did

For once, it was quiet in Titan’s Tower. Or, nearly quiet. Most of the team had been called out on a mission, leaving Damian stuck there, chaffing and upset over his injured arm. No matter how he’d tried to beg out of it, the team forced him to stay behind for the time, and so there he was, alone. Mostly. He _had_ been alone, until Wonder Woman’s adopted daughter showed up. Tiresias, that was her name. Damian could begrudgingly admit that he tolerated her company. Tiresias didn’t ask inane questions, didn’t pester or badger him over his injuries, and generally kept to herself unless she felt the need not to. Far better than Drake or Todd.

It would be less annoying if Damian didn’t think she was here to ‘babysit’ him. 

“Damian.” Tiresias’ voice floated over, reminiscent of a deep, steady fog bank. An odd analogy to come to mind. Damian flicked his eyes over to her, and found that she’d set down her book, looking to him with the usual detached intensity in her brown eyes. 

“Yes?” Damian didn’t bother looking back over, focusing instead on beating Drake’s score. True, Damian didn’t find any real entertainment in the video game, but he always found satisfaction in beating any milestone that Drake had set. A constant reminder for him that Damian was Father’s _true_ son. For a while, only the sound of button ~~mashing~~ tapping filled the space, and Damian almost thought that Tiresias had gotten lost in thought again- a common occurrence. That is, until she spoke again.

“You are agitated,” she stated, leaning over from the couch to look closer at him. Her black curls twisted around with her, but she made no move to touch him; that, Damian understood. Appreciated too, in some vague sense, even though it was more for her benefit than his comfort. But even without her seer abilities, Tiresias could read him clearly enough. She made a sort of wavy hand motion, before drawing back, dark lips tugging into something like curiosity. “It is your arm. And, something else. Your... father.” 

Tiresias’ eyes lit up with something like triumph, but instead of smugly gloating like Drake or needling like Todd or even, badgering and wheedling like Grayson, she simply continued to look at Damian. It was a clear invitation, for him to confirm, deny, or even just ignore her; something she did often, he noted. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t as annoying as the others. 

That was why, Damian decided, he answered her. Instead of pretending she hadn’t spoken at all. Tiresias, much like her mother, was an excellent warrior and listener. Respectable. Even if she wasn’t a part of the team.

“Indeed.” Damian mashed the controls a few more times, adjusting his bad arm. In the reflection of the screen, he could make out his sour glare. “Father has been acting strange ever since he killed the Joker. I am...” Damina mulled the word choice, “Concerned.”

~~Tia~~ Tiresias ‘hmm-ed’, tilting her head back up to the ceiling. She was silent for several minutes afterwards, but Damian did not mind. It was an admirable trait in a tactician. When she did finally speak, he knew to listen.

“Mother spoke with Superman today. Who had spoken with Batman.” She tapped her fingers down her leg. “Batman does not plan to... kill, more. But,” and she stopped tapping on her leg, “The toxin. Joker toxin. He has inhaled it, he says. Like the... children.” Her nose scrunched up momentarily, unsure as to what children he had been referring to. But Damian knew- had seen the reports, after all. The children the Joker had injected with the serum, or virus or whatever it was. 

The files, it seemed, had left certain things out.

Damian continued to mash buttons, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere now. Debating the nature of his father’s new illness. The new uncertainties, the question of how he could be cured, if there was a cure, tactics to contain him if the need arose-

“Robin. Be at peace.” Tiresias’ voice was steady, and it cut through his rampaging thoughts. Not enough to calm him down, but enough to help him center. “Mother and Superman have promised to aid him if need be. And your father- he is strong. He trusts you. There is no cause for concern.”

But Damian, unfortunately, did not feel so convinced. He grunted and set down his controller, pulling his arm back into his lap and scowling at something on the wall. 

“If that is the case, then why did he call everyone but me to a training session tonight?” 

That was what burned most. Though Damian would never admit it, the constant fear, deep in his heart, was that he was never to be good enough to become his father’s true heir. That no matter what he did, he would be found wanting. Even with a broken arm, Damian could still be present for a training session, couldn’t he? Why was he being excluded? Left at the Titan’s Tower, with only Tiresias as any sort of company? 

Tiresias’ face, reflected in the now black television screen, softened. It reminded him- for a brief, sharp moment- of his mother, before the memory was tainted entirely. Still, the familial feeling lingered briefly, and he imagined that this was what having an elder sister felt like, if only for the time. Much like Cassandra.

“Perhaps he does not want to worry you. Or, he wants you to rest your arm. Maybe he wished to tell you on his own later,” Tiresias soothed. It was not coddling or pity, or Damian would never have accepted it. It was more assured than that. Factual. Damian brushed it off mostly, but allowed some small comfort to be gained from her words, taking the wisdom from them that her mother had as well. 

“Tch. Perhaps.”

Tiresias seemed to preen at that. Had she wings, she would have fluffed them. Instead, she settled back into her chair, and allowed the silence to blanket the room again. It felt meditative in some ways, tranquil. Damian debated going to practice some of his sparring moves when she spoke again.

“If you are so concerned still, perhaps I can help you.”

It was an interesting offer, one that had Damian turning his head to look at her. Tiresias was wearing one of her smiles now, and she had her hands loosely clasped; a sign of tentative excitement. She was not one to offer solutions without having thought them out, so Damian offered her a raised eyebrow, which she accepted.

“If you let me, I can look into your future- to see if there is cause for alarm,” she proposed. Damian’s first reaction was an instant decline, followed by leaving the room. But he pushed down on that instinct, and instead, weighed the options. Tiresias was trustworthy; not only was she the daughter of Wonder Woman herself, but she had proven time and time again by aiding not only the Teen Titans, but the Justice League as well. If Damian declined, she would not force the issue or comment on it again. She was simply offering a solution with no expectations, and no discourse. The choice was left entirely up to him.

So Damian sat in silence once more, weighing his options. Knowing that, yes, perhaps he should just simply wait until he could confront his father. But something about the conversation his father shared with Superman was... slightly unnerving. That he would keep such a large secret from even his family. That, even if Damian spoke with him later, he might not tell the full truth. 

The choice was easier after that. 

“Fine. Tiresias, I agree to your offer.” Damian turned around, outstretching his hand for her. “Be quick. I wish to cease my worrying over the issue.” 

Tiresias laughed softly, but stood up, comfortably sitting down in front of Damian now. She carefully reached out to take his hand, hesitating before she did so. Giving him an out if he desired. When no protests came, she encased his small hand in her large ones, exhaled, and closed her eyes. Just for a moment- just until they opened again, this time, shining something like gold. 

Damian waited.

These things did not take very long. The time was relative, yes, but for short glimpses into the future, it would only take moments. As the seconds dragged on, Damian felt his unease mount. 

It took fifteen seconds before Tiresias pulled away. The gold in her eyes drained like usual, running down her cheeks and leaving her gaze grey and unseeing, but this time, she remained frozen. There was no smile on her lips. There was no tilt to her head. Her blind eyes seemed stuck on the horizon, on images only she could see, and Damian jolted without realizing it as he pushed her arm.

“Tiresias!” he shouted. Not a snap. Not concern. She twisted at his voice, like a puppet having its strings yanked, and Damian could see the sudden breakout sweat on her head, the way her face contorted with pain. Before he knew it, she turned around and doubled over, heaving onto the floor. 

This, Damian knew, was very, very bad.

When she stopped throwing up, Tiresias took a moment to simply breathe, and Damian allowed it. Waited for her to collect herself. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck now, and she followed the sound of his quiet ‘tch’ to where his head was. Blind still, after seeing into the future for so long. Temporarily, but always somehow frightening. 

She pointedly kept her hands as her sides, but, Damian noted, with great difficulty.

“Oh Hera... Damian, I- I am so, so sorry,” Tiresias croaked. Apologizing for some crime that Damian did not know of. But it prickled under his skin, lurking out of view, and only grew as she continued. “I. Oh sweet merciful Eleos, Mother-“ Was that a subdued sob? Damian couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. But he had to know- what could make a seer break into fever like this? Into hysterics? 

“Speak! What is it that you saw?!” Damian demanded, nearly jumping out of his skin with it. And there on her face was something he had never seen her wear; terror. Terror, mixed with grief. With dread.

He wished, in that moment, that he had never asked her to look into his future at all.

“They are dead.” 

No.

“Your- father kills them. Killed.”  
No.

“He- he will kill the heroes. The world. He will... turn you. Destroy you.”

No. No, no, not his father. Not his family. 

“The future is changeable,” Damian heard himself croak. “He will not. My brothers will live.”

Tiresias’ damnable voice was as firm as desert sand, in a breeze. As empty as a grave. “The future is changeable. But the past is not. Damian- they. I’m sorry.”

Damian was grateful she could not see him now, because she could not see the angry tears. Could not give him pity as he slammed open his communicator, trying to dial Nightwing’s line. Silence. The emergency line. Silence. Red Robin’s, Red Hood’s, Batgirl’s. Complete and utter silence. The likelihood of one not answering was small. Of all not answering was impossible. Coupled with what Tiresias had just said- had seen, had whispered- no. No, no, no. 

Tiresias did not try to hug Damian as he curled around himself and let out a howl of betrayal, grief, and rage. And at least for that, he was grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

The security at the Batcomputer was some of the strongest in the world. Hacking into it would’ve been impossible. So naturally, for Damian, it took mere minutes. It would’ve taken less time, but he wasted time with shaking hands and shallow, frantic breathing. Unnecessary evolutionary defense mechanisms for panic. He didn’t need them. He just needed to see- he just needed to see that Tiresias was wrong. To show her that she had been incorrect. That even though all the communicator lines were down and no one was answering him, they were fine.

Mercifully, Tiresias was silent still. Damian wondered if she was just letting him find out on his own terms, or if she genuinely didn’t know what he was doing. It might’ve been hard, with the blindness. Perhaps it hadn’t worn off yet then. But the final password went in, and the computer screen was filled with familiar files and information, as though Damian was truly back in the Cave, scrolling through reports.

He stiffened as he accessed the security feeds. Obviously they would show that everything was fine. They had to. Of course they would. Father wouldn’t have- killed everyone. Tiresias was wrong. She was lying. This was just a trick. 

“Load faster,” Damian hissed with urgency. The bitrate was awful here; didn’t they have the funds for a better internet connection? It was taking an eternity. Damian felt his skin curdling with agitation, and something like fear. 

Finally, the feed loaded.

It could’ve been a single, frozen image for all he saw; there was no movement on screen, save for the occasional, distant bat flying around. Because the four bodies on the ground were entirely too still- surely it had to be just a glitch in the feed, he wanted to believe. Wanted to. Couldn’t ignore the blood, though, the way their chests didn’t rise or fall. All four of them; Grayson, Drake, Todd, and Gordon. All dead where they’d been cut down. Damian swallowed back bile as he stared at their injuries, at the bullet wounds that were too close to suggest an ambush from afar. Father had gotten them close enough to finish the job. He hadn’t given them a chance to fight back. Grayson’s jaw was shattered and splayed outwards, and he-

“Damian.” Tiresias was behind him. He wasn’t sure when she’d gotten up from the ground, but now she had leaned forward. Her voice was grounding despite its wispy quality, but it was not enough. He still found himself staring at the carnage. 

“Don’t look.” A detached, quiet request. Her hands came out in front of his eyes, pointedly not touching his face, but hovering just near it, blocking his view of the screen as much as her dark hands could. At any other moment, he would have chafed at the childish treatment, but for once, he was... grateful. Relieved, maybe. That she had removed the screen from view. Giving him the chance to demand she move, or to allow her to continue. Instead, Damian tightly closed his eyes, blocking out the rest of the screen from view. He heard one of her hands click one of the keys as she undoubtedly closed the window. 

He didn’t know what to do.

“Why?” Damian choked out. It was all he could think to say. As if she would have any answer for what had happened; why had Father done it? Why didn’t Tiresias, somehow, stop this? Was this Damian’s fault? Could he have prevented this? If he had been home, would Father have killed him too? “Why did he do this?”

“I. I don’t know,” Tiresias whispered. Her voice sounded like it was so far away. “The Joker’s toxin. But you already know that. I- I don’t know.”

To see the future, but never fully understand why.

She did not try to hug Damian. She didn’t offer any words of useless comfort, no attempts to falsely soothe him. He knew that she had known Nightwing- had visited him, when they were both younger. Been friends. Perhaps she was mourning too. In the silence. Perhaps she was just as lost as he was. No; no, she was not. She still had her mother. She still had a family to return to. Damian, suddenly and abruptly, had nothing at all. The world felt very cold. His only family was a psychotic murderer, parading around like he was still Damian’s Father. Maybe- maybe he had no choice but to join him. Maybe it was inevitable.

“He will not have you.”

Tiresias’ voice was firm. Damian opened his eyes without realizing it, finding himself looking right to her. The brown had returned to her eyes, and her face was set like it had been etched from clay. There was a certainty in her that reminded him of Wonder Woman, in familial ways. “I do not know _why_ he has done this, but he will not have you.” Already, she was standing up, moving to begin typing on the computer while Damian watched, thrown off-kilter. 

“What are you going to do?”

Tiresias frowned. It was unusual to see her do so, but she did. “We will... go to the Justice League. Mother and Superman will know what to do. They will stop him, and he will not have the chance to kill anymore.”

That was what she had seen in her vision, she’d said. Damian becoming a monster, the world being destroyed. He wondered just how much of the future was unchangeable. Tiresias would know more than he did; he hoped, for their sake, that she was right.

There was the familiar sound of the Boom Tube coming online. She must not have alerted the League that they would be coming, or else she would’ve have used the bypass codes. A smart move- if Father was still monitoring League communications, that would give him a location. As Tiresias stepped back, she paused, giving Damian a look. It was a distantly mourning look, as though there were words unsaid in her very eyes. It prickled.

“I am not a child who needs coddled,” Damian sniped. He hadn’t been a child for a long time. “Let us go to the Watchtower, so you can-“ reunite with your Mother. With the family you have, and I do not. “-tell them what you know.”

Cassandra was still alive. She had to be. And Thomas, and Pennyworth. Jon, as well- there were still others. Even if Damian had failed his family, he could still try to save the others. He pointedly glared at Tiresias, even though her face was completely impassive. Something in her eyes held sorrow still. He didn’t care for it.

They walked through the Boom Tube in silence- relatively speaking. There was the usual noise, the usual feeling that came with the transportation, and as they appeared in the Watchtower there came the chorus of surprised voices. Tiresias grabbed onto Damian’s sleeve, careful not to make any skin contact, and strode forward to Martin Manhunter. Damian blinked in some disgruntled surprise at being carted around, but Tiresias hardly did anything without reason. Doubly so as she reached her other hand out and set it into the Manhunter’s green palm. It was a single, smooth motion, and yet Damian felt her other hand tense minutely as she gripped his sleeve; golden light shone from her eyes and for the first time, Damian found himself wondering if the process hurt. Judging by her tensed fingers, it must have. The seeing, and the relaying. 

The other Justice League members watched without any semblance of silence. The Flash was hurriedly relaying something to Hawkgirl, and Wonder Woman was standing off to the side with something like wariness. By the time Tiresias pulled back, Martin Manhunter looked particularly unsettled, and decidedly more green- if that was even possible.

“Call an emergency meeting, quickly,” the Manhunter stated, already breezing out of the room. The urgency of his tone and the set of his face made the others quickly comply, even Wonder Woman, who shot a slightly reluctant glance to her daughter before she followed. Damian noted that Tiresias has yet to release his sleeve. Golden rivets were running down her face again, and he made a small scoff, tugging his hand free so that he could hand her a cloth. 

“Ah. Thank you, Damian,” Tiresias said, somewhat distantly. She made no move to clean off her face. A droplet splashed down on her outstretched hand, still glowing gold; her fingers, drawing nonsense shapes on her arm. 

”What did you see?”

She paused. The symbol for protection glowed faintly on her arm, traced in the skin. 

“Nothing.”

Not a dismissal; a statement. Nothing.

Damian shuddered, and reached up to grab the side of her arm, tugging her down the hall- safer this way, with the blindness. Least she end up walking headfirst into a wall.

It reminded him, in a vague, wistful way, of walking with Grayson. 

The rest of the walk was much quieter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Damian. Poor Tiresias. One thing I enjoy working with is that the Batman Who Laughs is hilariously overpowered in that he always outsmarts his opponents. Even with Seer Sight, I wonder if Tia will be able to keep Damian from him


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, the Justice League found Batman.

Damian wondered if he should feel happy about that. Or vindicated- if he should feel as though justice would finally be served. But he didn’t; in fact, he still felt as uncomfortably hollow as before. The only difference being that Tiresias still refused to leave his side. 

The room they were in now had multiple strategic points, excellent sight-lines, and several League members conveniently ‘loitering’ around. Still, Tiresias was seated a polite distance away from Damian, yet just close enough to be only a lunge away. Her hands kept shifting at her sides. Occasionally, her eyes would dart to the doorways, but they always returned to staring at a point off in the distance. Though she still could not see, she remained vigilant. 

Damian, despite himself, was... concerned. Worried, perhaps. Tiresias was a great ally, and had saved him ~~even if she hadn’t saved his family~~. It was the least he could do, he rationalized- to ask her. 

“Tiresias. Does my- the Batman’s presence here cause you distress?” Damian shifted his gaze to her. Tiresias smiled in a tired, false way, much like Grayson after too long a patrol.

“In part.” The words sounded much like a confession, despite their content. Tiresias resettled in her seat, and just so happened to move a little closer to Damian. “When I saw your future- we have already changed it; I do not know what J’onn saw. I believe I am... anxious. Not knowing.”

It made sense. It would explain why she looked particularly unwell, and her hands at her sides fidgeting. The symbols of gold on her arms had dried, but somehow, they remained, as she occasionally brushed her hands over them. Her smile became softer, more bitter.

“Mother will find a way to help your father-“

“Don’t call him that.”

Tiresias didn’t still in her movements. If she was surprised by his outburst, she didn’t show it. 

“Then I won’t.”

Silence. Damian needled under it; he hadn’t wanted her to ask for explanation, but the silence was somehow worse. He needed to explain, even if he didn’t want to. Someone to listen, to understand. He balled his hands up on his thighs and whispered a hiss. Tiresias: always understanding. 

“He is not my Father anymore. That... thing. He is _not_ my Father.” Bruce Wayne had not been a perfect parent, but he had been loving. He had been caring and understanding, to all of his children- yes, even Drake, the false heir ~~and he was dead now so what did it matter.~~ Even at his worst, Father was... still a Wayne. Still honorable and righteous. 

His Father never would have done this. Never would have _killed_ his family, his sons. Whatever that was now, it was a creature parading around in his Father’s skin; it was a monster. Something to be destroyed and purged. A mistake to be reconciled.

Not his Father.

Damian wasn’t crying; an Al Ghul did not cry. Still, he felt a certain tightness in his throat that made every inhale insufferable. Tiresias, damnable, understanding Tiresias, was completely silent. Damian wanted to howl and scream at her, sitting there and listening and not blaming or questioning. Not asking Damian why he hadn’t seen this sooner; if he was the best son, why hadn’t he known to stop this? Why-

“Damian. I do not blame you,” she whispered traitorously. “Your brothers would not blame. Richard would not blame you.”

“How do you know?!” Damina snarled. It felt vindicating, letting out even a small bit of that anger, no matter how he screamed at himself for doing so. “They are dead! You don’t know anything!” And I hate you, I hate you, why don’t you blame me, why didn’t you save them.

“They loved you so much, little wing,” Tiresias murmured. “Every future I saw, for every mission that would go wrong- every time I saw them dying, their last words were comfort for you. For their family.”

That made everything so much worse. 

“I should have been able to save them.”

Tiresias’ eyes were infinitely mournful, and she blinked slowly, brown seeping back in at the edges. “I’m sorry.”

The door to the room opened, and Wonder Woman stepped in. She was every inch the Amazon warrior she always was, but exhaustion was etched in her movements. She stopped in front of Tiresias, kneeling down. 

“Tiresias... I must return to Themyscira to inform the rest of the Amazons of what has transpired,” Wonder Woman stated, though not unkindly. “Will you be well here, on your own?”

“Yes, Mother. I will accompany Damian, if that is alright,” Tiresias’ tone was soft, almost comforting to Damian’s ears. Wonder Woman nodded.

“Of course.” Formal tone, as Wonder Woman stood back up, preparing for the Boom Tube. Then, she paused, her face a paradox of firmness and warmth. “I love you, Tia.”

Words that Father had never spoken in uniform before, so casually stated. Tiresias beamed.

“I love you as well, Mother. Tell Grandmother I miss her.”

“I shall.”

Wonder Woman disappeared around the corner. Tiresias looked somewhat remorseful, but quickly shook it off, turning back to Damian. His face had soured at their display of affection, but out of regret and envy, not disgust. Some part sorrow, he identified, and found himself distantly wishing to see his Father. Of course, he knew he should’ve been careful what he wished for, as the Flash appeared in front of them one breath later.

“Hey kids,” the Flash greeted like a bad commercial. He rocked on his feet- an anxious movement he never could shake- before inclining his head. “Robin, the other Leaguers wanted to know if you- wanted to see Batman, down in the holding cell.” 

Damian’s lip curled. He should have said no, of course. He wanted nothing to do with that man anymore. But... a part of him yearned for closure. To understand why the man had done this. That, maybe if Damian saw him, it would make sense. So instead of refusing, Damian nodded.

“That is acceptable. Tiresias shall accompany me as well.”

“Sure thing, you’re the boss. He’s this way.”

Tiresias followed without protest or comment. She stuck close to Damian in the halls, only a single breath away at any given moment. The Flash kept up a running commentary that slowly devolved into rambling as they drew closer to the holding cell area. 

“I’m just shocked that Bats would do this. I mean, I don’t really even believe it myself, even though J’onn told us what Tia had seen. I guess it just doesn’t make sense to me. Not that it would make sense to you either- it just, he never seemed like the kind of guy to go crazy like this. It feels like some kind of nightmare,” Flash rambled, vibrating in place somewhat. Damian grit his teeth the more the man talked, trying to prevent himself from maiming a main League member. 

“Hmm. Wally... please, be quiet,” Tiresias requested. The usage of his name shut the man up, and Damian smirked a little vindictively. It was always hard for others to tell when Tiresias used a name simply out of forgetfulness, but every now and then, Damian could tell that it was spite. Now was one of them. Not that he would say anything.

And not that it mattered, as the holding cell finally came into view. State of the art, even by Justice League standards. Guarded by three members outside, and Superman in the receiving area. It seemed, maybe, like overkill. But to Damian, it felt distantly like it wouldn’t be enough. 

“I’ll leave you guys here while you talk. I’ll be right outside if you need me. Seriously- just say the words and I’ll vibrate through the door, scouts honor,” the Flash gave a nervous smile, before quickly disappearing. Leaving the duo alone with a stricken Superman.

“Robin, I-“ Superman attempted, doubtlessly trying to give some pity. Damian would have none of it.

“I wish to speak to Batman. Is that acceptable?”

“Oh- yeah, yeah. Here, we can open up a viewing window here...” Superman drifted over to a panel, typing a few commands. The one blank wall became transparent, showing the holding cell now. Showing Batman. Damian thought the moment would feel more climactic, but it just felt... normal. There wasn’t anything different about Batman’s appearance, and he stood with much the same quiet, looming disinterest. It was hard to stomach that this was the man who had killed his sons. His family. Tiresias set a hand down on Damian’s shoulder, lightly squeezing for the moment it was there. The momentary burst of strength dissolved as Batman looked at him.

Even with Superman in the room, Damian felt afraid.

“Damian,” Batman greeted. The same tone of voice. 

“Batman.” Not Father. There was the slightest shift in muscle on Batman’s face that signified displeasure. 

“You brought the seer with you?”

Damian swallowed back the instinctive unease at the vaguely reprimanding tone. “Tiresias asked to accompany me. I saw no reason to deny the request.”

A lie. Not that it mattered. 

“Hm.”

The silence might as well have been suffocating. Even Superman looked uncomfortable. It was Damian who broke it.

“Why?”

Batman stared at him. Like the question was inane, meaningless. ‘Why did you kill them?’ What an odd thing to ask. Then, the worst thing Damian had ever seen: he smiled. A cruel, mocking smile. “You were always my smartest son. I’m sure you can figure out why.”

And Damian could. The compliment burned like acid, and he hated the pet of him that craved it. Was too busy pummeling himself to notice the shift in Batman’s stance, as he turned to Tiresias.

“I can thank you for this setback, can’t I?” Batman grunted. “Hm. Wonder Woman always had a bleeding heart for orphans. I know she recently adopted a handful more, hasn’t she?”

Tiresias said nothing. Her face was blank, as though carved from marble. The grip on Damian’s sleeve suggested fear.

“J’onn came in earlier to probe my mind. He showed me the most interesting thing,” Batman... drawled. Tiresias stiffened almost invisibly. Superman was less subtle. “Me, strangling your mother with her own lasso? Killing everyone in the Watchtower? Very creative. It’s a shame I won’t be able to do that now.”

Now. Damian’s mind latched onto the tone of that sentence, dissecting it. Analyzing. It implied a joke. That he couldn’t do _that_ now, but he would do something still. Tiresias must have noticed too. Almost casually, she reached her hand down from Damian’s sleeve, to his single ungloved hand. Lingering near the sleeve for him to deny her. When he didn’t, she carefully encased his hand in hers, and...

A single second of nothing. Then, she squeezed, and at the third second, gold spilled from her blind eyes.

“No!” she screamed. It was a shriek, pure and simple, and she turned to Superman like he could do anything. “Clark- my Mother-!”

The quietest sound of a click. The Watchtower alarms began to blare, and the lights in the room went out. The emergency speaker crackled to life.

“Alert! All League members respond. Multiple reports stating a doomsday device has been detonated at Themyscira. All active and able League members, please report.”

When Damian looked to the cell, Batman was smiling. Superman’s face was a shocked snark.

“No- Diana! How could you?-“

The sound was cut off as the room jolted. Batman continued to smile, and that was when Damian noticed his cell beginning to crumble away. That was all Damian had time to notice, before Tiresias scooped him up like an unruly child, sprinting down the hall. Despite being unable to see, she still ran. 

“Tiresias! Damn you, release me!” Damian yelled, but she only held him tighter, as though he could disappear into the wind. Tears mixed with the gold of her eyes, and Damian grit his teeth, turning to the hall. “Left! There’s a corner here!” 

She went left. Running towards the Boom Tubes, it seemed. The overhead speakers were screaming about Batman’s escape now, mixed with the sudden attack on Themyscira. Damian couldn’t pay them any attention now. “Right!” And so she went right. “Dodge!” She dodged Hawkman, flying down the hall. The Boom Tube room was within sight, at least, and Damian pointed her towards the nearest one, already jumping out of her arms to program it to scramble their location after sending them. Just enough to make it so Batman wouldn’t follow them. 

“It’s ready!” Damian shouted. It had to be enough. Tiresias grabbed Damian’s arm, pulling him towards the teleporter base, and only flinched a little when Batman’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Kidnapping is a felony, you know. I’ll have to stop you here,” he honestly laughed. Then, before Damian could yell for her to dodge, Batman threw a batarang- the edges razor-sharp, glistening as it headed right for her throat. Damian froze. He _froze_ up, in the middle of combat, helpless to stop it, like a child. Could only watch as Tiresias was to die.

Only for the batarang to stop in the middle of the air, right before her throat. An outline of gold surrounded it, and Damian blinked as he realized it surrounded her entire body. The symbol on her arm was shining now- protection. A glyph. Batman’s surprised expression turned to rage, just as the Boom Tube swept Damian and Tiresias away.

They landed a moment later. Safe, far away from the deranged madman that was once his Father. Safe, for now.

Damian didn’t protest, this time, as Tiresias quietly took him in her arms. It was not he who needed the comfort. At least, that’s what he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tiresias. She didn’t even get to hug her mother one last time
> 
> Well. At least she and Damian are 2-2 on the orphan thing now


	4. Chapter 4

“I have a plan,” Tiresias said when she removed her hold from Damian. Her eyes were still... bleeding, if that was the word, but she looked around anyway, as though she could see. The air had the distinct sound of a city, but they were nestled in a dark, forgotten alleyway- one without cameras. For the moment, it would do, and clearly Tiresias could at least tell that they were safe for the moment. She knelt down.

“Where are we?” 

Damian frowned. “Metropolis. There is enough technology masking here from LexCorp that Batman will not be able to find us right away.”

Hopefully enough to disrupt any trackers that Damian might have missed removing from his costume. Tiresias smiled, though it was clearly exhausted, and she remained kneeling. “That will be enough. I have an- apartment, here. I can lead us there.”

“Tiresias. Your eyes.”

She reached up, feeling the gold still draining. “Oh. Yes, I had forgotten.”

Damian’s frown deepened, turning into something like a worried scowl, and she beat him to the question before he could even voice his concern, standing up to her full height. Her damnable smile was still there. “It has been a long time since I’ve used my abilities this much. My eyes will take longer to heal, but it will pass.”

Damian blinked, feeling a cold chill brush over his spine. “Longer to heal? Your visions cause damage?”

The smile slipped off her face somewhat. “Yes. If I could, I would see your future again now, but... the effects will get worse.”

“Worse how.”

She began walking out of the alley, holding out her hand for Damian to lead her. Damian sighed, pulling up his hood so that his costume was mostly obscured, before he grabbed on, tugging Tiresias down the street like a child. None of the citizens walking gave them a single glance, and Tiresias made a wavy hand gesture with her free hand, nearly clipping a passerby. “Permanent blindness. At least, Mother assumed. We would have done more research, but... there wasn’t enough time,” she finished mournfully. And now, there never would be. 

Desperate to change the topic, Damian tugged her hand harder. “Where is your apartment?” 

“What was it... East Park Street. It is under an overpass. The air smells of corn dogs and sewer water.”

It was not the best description, but evidently, nosy Metropolis citizens knew the way. Damian still sneered at then as he stomped away. Tiresias, despite her height, was easily directed along the street, dodging busy workmen and running children. The bleeding had stopped, but she glowed a faint gold. Miraculously, no citizens gave it so much as a glance. Much like Gotham, then. 

“Ah. Stop,” Tiresias suddenly stated, clutching Damian tight. “We are here.”

“You cannot see.”

“Yes, but I can feel it.”

Whatever that meant. Tiresias still held on to Damian’s wrist, but she was gentle as she ghosted forward, up into an apartment building that was crumbling at the foundations. True to her word, the air did smell like sewage and cheap food. She managed to navigate down the hall until she stopped at the last door on the left. 

“Here.”

And to Damian’s further amazement, she simply pressed a hand to the door and pushed it open. There was a faint glimmer of something gold along the outline of the door- magic, undoubtedly. Like what she had done before. Clearly there was much left out from her file, and for once, Damian was glad. 

The apartment they entered was... mostly, terrible. Damian’s impressed demeanor quickly fell apart as he saw the room. It was hardly big enough for anyone to live in, yet somehow, it existed. A small, ramshackle gym was near the front door, nearby what he presumed to be the bathroom. From there, he could see the small living room, which shared space with the kitchen, and a tiny loft above that held what must have then been the bedroom. It was the farthest thing from Wayne Manor that ever could have existed. It was almost an insult, just to stand there. 

And yet, Tiresias hummed softly as she stepped inside, closing the door with a click and toeing off her shoes. Though the gold was gone from her eyes, they were still colorless and dark, and she turned to him with a seriousness that snapped Damian out of his horrified stupor.

“May I see your arms, Damian?” Tiresias asked, “We can sit on the sofa if that would be more comfortable.”

“Why do you need to see my arms?”

She tapped her own arm. “I must apply wards to you. They will protect you.”

Like the ones on her arms earlier, then. It made sense. Any further protection from Batman would be welcome. Damian begrudgingly made his way to the couch, sitting on it much like a man about to have his arm removed. Tiresias’ smile had returned, at least. Damian shucked off his tunic and held out his bare arm to her. 

“Are you certain you should be doing this?” He asked warily. “Your vision has yet to return.”

“I will be fine,” she said, and Damian was too tired to fully tell if she knew she was lying or not. Either way, she set her hand down on his skin, and tensed. The seconds dragged on. At the fifth, her nails dug lightly into his flesh, before she inhaled and pulled back.

“Safe. We will be safe until tomorrow,” she breathed. She did not say what would happen if they overstayed their welcome. Instead, she reached up and dipped her fingers in the golden liquid that spilled from her blind eyes, with something like benediction. 

“It will be warm,” she warned. 

“Fine.”

Methodically, she began to paint the symbols on his arm. Not like the ones she had done in the Watchtower, messy but applicable. These ones were precise, not a line out of place. She worked with diligence and concentration. True to her word, the wards felt warm for brief moments, before they seemed to melt into his skin.

“This one is protection. General protection,” she explained, pressing a dot into his skin. “It is weaker than the specific ones I have made. This one is grounding. Reality grounding. Safety.”

“What is this one?”

She tilted his wrist over. “Ah. Luck. I am... unsure if it is a true ward or not,” she confessed, swirling a spiral near his elbow. Damian scowled. 

“Then why did you make it?”

“Mother taught me it. Perhaps she was just making it up, for I had been fearful of passing an exam at the time. I am uncertain. Still... I always apply it, nonetheless.”

She finished her work soon after. Damian did not feel any different, but perhaps that meant it was working. As she began the same work on her own arms, Damian tentatively leaned into the sofa, feeling the springs creak in a way that suggested years of wear. It made him curious. Curious as to why she had this apartment, if her mother was (had been) Wonder Woman. If her home was Themyscira.

“Tiresias. Why do you live here?” Damian frowned, though she couldn’t see it. Still, she must have felt it, because her smile became sadder.

“I once worked with your brother for the Titans. It was convenient to live nearby, in a way.” And she had kept the apartment ever since. Still well worn and loved. Years upon years of age, but a comforting kind now. “Even after, I kept this as a second home. It is a retreat, in some ways.” Her tone wistful. “I am sorry. You must miss him so much.”

More than words could describe. It came and went in waves of grief, and as Damian sunk into the puke green sofa, he felt it wash over him again. Tiresias, damnable Tiresias, must have noticed.

“You have to change out of that outfit,” she said instead, standing up. “Give me a moment.”

She noisily clambered up to the loft, rummaging through what must have been clothes. Damian couldn’t quite find it in himself to care as acutely as he often did. The yawning emptiness in his gut felt like it could swallow him up, leaving nothing behind. His family was gone. Everyone. Every-

No, not quite.

“Damian. Here.” Tiresias’ soft voice, the feeling of clothes brushing against his arm. Damian opened his eyes and found himself staring at a faded yellow sweatshirt, with shorts just as old. It was familiar, in some way. Familiar. But why? Tiresias looked... sad. “These were Richard’s. From when he was younger.”

That was why. Damian wanted to shove them back into her face for a moment, but he understood the gesture. That she was mourning his loss too, as well as the loss of her parent. That she understood, that she didn’t expect anything in return. She had no reason to even help Damian, but here she was, helping him. He took the clothes, holding them a bit too long. She didn’t mention it. He appreciated that.

When Damian had changed, he felt much, much smaller. Seated on the sofa next to the giant that was Tiresias, the feeling did not abate. It made him wish he was... younger, perhaps. When his mother would actually tend to him, read him stories that had been passed down through time. Some sort of familial comfort. But... while he may not have had his brothers anymore, that wasn’t quite true. 

“Tiresias. I, desire to call my family. May I use your phone?”

She looked unsure. It was only there for a brief moment, before she seemed to shrug it off. “Of course. The phone is by the refrigerator. Be careful of the wiring.”

Tiresias surely lived in a death trap.

Still, Damian nodded, standing up and going to the phone. He had the emergency numbers for Cassandra, Thomas, and Brown all memorized. But he truly wanted to call Alfred. So he did.

The phone only rang twice. Damian held his breath the entire time, waiting, feeling as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it was finally picked up, Damian was the first to speak, composure be damned.

“Alfred?” Damian’s voice sounded so small, even to his ears. There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, and then that comfortingly familiar voice. 

“Master Damian.” Alfred‘s voice crackled a little, thick with emotion. “You are... alive.”

“As if anything could kill me,” Damian sniffed. The joke dissolved into the air, empty. Damian clutched the phone a little too tight, his fingers turning white at the knuckles. “Are you well, Alfred?”

“Yes. Yes, Master Damian, do not worry. And Master Duke and your sister are here as well. They... helped with the burials.”

Damian, for a horrible moment, wanted to cry into the phone like a toddler. That Alfred was safe, that the others were safe, but that Grayson was dead and so was Todd, Drake, even Gordon. He hunched his shoulders and forced his voice even. “Is Brown there as well?”

“... No, Master Damian. I have tried to reach her, but I cannot,” Alfred apologized, voice grim in the silence. “Master Bruce... will not be able to enter the manor. I will keep your siblings safe; it will be okay.”

The reassurance felt like an almost physical thing. Like dinners cooked for rainy days and desserts snuck after dark. Alfred believed, so firmly, that it would be okay. That he would be able to protect Thomas and Cain. That everything would be okay. Desperately, Damian wanted to believe him. The silence felt a little less suffocating after that. 

“You _are_ safe, aren’t you, Master Damian?” Alfred’s voice was softer. 

“Yes. Tiresias is aiding me.”

“Miss Tiresias? Oh, I do remember her. She and Master Richard were good friends. You are in safe company, then.”

The conversation drifted off after that. Damian and Alfred spoke of small things, and soon, it was time to part. 

“Please stay safe, Master Damian.”

“I will, Alfred. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And with reluctance, Damian hung up the phone. The apartment felt much quieter without Alfred’s voice to fill it. Damian turned to Tiresias, and found her quietly munching away at what appeared to be a pack of protein bars- to which she held up the box with a soft look. 

“Ah. I did not wish to disturb you, but I have dinner. I remember that you are vegetarian, and ensured these would be consumable,” she stated. Damian settled down on the sofa next to her, opening up one of the packets.

“Thank you, Tia.” The nickname stumbled out as Damian began to eat, and for a moment he froze, startled by it. But Tiresias didn’t seem to pay it any mind, simply continuing to eat. The meal passed in something like silence, and by the time they were finished, it was dark enough out that sleep began to call. Yet, Damian found himself lingering in his seat, unwilling to attempt to sleep just yet. Fearful, maybe- as much as an al Ghul could fear. Unsure of what his dreams would bring. 

Damnable Tiresias, too keen to miss the way his face shifted. But there was no judgement in her eyes, only that same distant quality, focusing on him and gaining a sharpness that was muted at the edges. 

“Do you wish for aid for your sleep?” Tiresias inquired. “Forgive me for offering of it is improper, but Mother sang me hymns that sent even the most troubled warrior to rest.” Hymns. Tiresias was offering to _sing him to sleep_. 

“You wish to sing to me?” 

She nodded. ”I had nightmares for many years. She would stand vigil over my sleep as she sang, and no harm befell me.”

Damian bared his teeth. “I am not a child who needs coddling! I am perfectly capable of sleeping on my own.”

Tiresias did not flinch at his outburst. She just nodded again, “All is well. I will leave you to your sleep, then.“

Quietly, she clambered up the ladder to the loft, and there was the distinct sound of a body settling into a hammock. It must have been an Amazon sleeping habit. Damian settled down on the sofa, pulling the patchwork quilt over himself and staring up at the ceiling. Tracing the cracks in the painting, the dips and edges. There was no clock in Tiresias’ apartment, but Damian’s internal clock was effortlessly accurate. The minutes ticked by, slowly, languidly. Turning to an hour without any effort. Damian’s thoughts raced around his head, and try as he might, sleep would not come. Too early in the night, maybe, or he was simply too wired to rest at all. Too afraid that Batman would appear from the shadows and finish the job. It was... exhausting. Yet, he could not sleep.

Damian’s mouth twitched into a frown.

“... Tiresias,” he called, voice barely a whisper. She would not answer, of course, and then he could simply force himself to fall asleep. No outside help needed. He could say he had at least tried to ask for her aid, but it was clear she was sleeping, and would not-

“Yes, little wing?” Her head appeared from the loft, black curls and faint gold. Damian’s frown deepened into a scowl. At the nickname, at his own weakness.

“What were these... hymns, that your mother sang?”

This was an awful idea. Damian wasn’t sure why he was even entertaining it. Surely he should’ve just waited until he passed out from exhaustion, not tried this. 

“Oh. Would you like me to show you one?” 

Damian grunted out something that could be interpreted as a yes. Tiresias smiled in the darkness, gently dropping down from the loft to sit down at the far end of the sofa. Damian refused to meet her gaze. This was humiliating. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to this. Surely a Wayne could be stronger than being reduced to this childish need for reassurance.

“This one was Richard’s favorite,” she offered. Damian’s head perked up a little, just in time to hear her begin to sing, in an ancient language long since lost to the world. Like waves rushing over rock, wind blowing past trees. The feeling of the sun on your face in the afternoon, the smell of clay and heat. It was barely describable, even in these ways, and Damian found himself floundering against it. Trying to grasp it as it slipped through his fingers. The feeling of comfort after a long day, of a mother’s gaze that spoke of safety at night. The hearth of siblings, all together.

Before Damian knew it, he had fallen asleep.

And Tiresias, true to her promise, kept watch over him for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual. Decided to put some fluff in here. Im sure nothing horrible will happen in the next chapter
> 
> Damian: is a child  
> Damian’s brain: hmm maybe a bitch can have some emotions??  
> Damian: What The Fuck Absolutely Not


	5. Chapter 5

The television awoke Damian. His first instinct was confusion and fear, but as memories flooded back to him, he dropped his tension, the battle stance slipping from his mind as he opened his eyes. He was safe. Tiresias was here. The man who was once his father was not a threat- yet. 

Damian sat up on the sofa, distantly noting that he felt completely refreshed. Tiresias was no longer where she had been during the night, but instead, was standing in the kitchen. There was a shipping box on the counter, placed well away from the orange she was peeling. She smiled in his direction, but, Damian noted with unease, her eyes were colorless again. 

“Good morning, Damian.” She returned to peeling the orange. Damian grunted, turning his attention back to the television. The news was... grim. The Flash, it said, was missing. So were numerous other heroes. And villains. There was a brief shot of Themyscira, or where it had once been, describing the aftereffects in nearby Greece and Italy, and Damian felt Tiresias step behind him as the breaking news reported the death of Shazam. 

“Here,” and she handed him a peeled orange. Petulantly, he accepted. They were fresh, he noted with curiosity, eyeing the package on the counter again as explanation.

“Tiresias. You were... out?” Damian rose an eyebrow.

“To the fruit stand outside,” she gestured to the window, leaning over the sofa, an illusion of relaxation that hid her tension. “General Zod is in Metropolis, fighting Supergirl and her friends. The fruit vendor will die in a few hours to a falling building.”

It was unnerving how easily Tiresias spoke of such things. Years must have dulled her emotions to such things, in some ways, but Damian still remembered how keenly she cried out as she undoubtably witnessed her Mother’s death. 

“Can we save him?” Damian frowned, biting into another piece of orange. Tiresias hummed.

“I suppose. We could evacuate the area before the attack. But...” Tiresias inclined her head, “What’s the point?”

Damian jolted a little, then scowled. “Now is not the time to become nihilistic! We must help those that we can, even if it seems impossible.“

“Even if he will die anyway?” She rolled the orange in her hands. “Even if, after we save him, this neighborhood will be leveled in a supermassive attack?”

“Then we will evacuate the neighborhood before it occurs.”

“Every neighborhood? What about the entire city, then? When Batman’s thermonuclear device levels it in an attempt to drive Superman mad with grief?”

“We will disable the device!” Damian slammed a fist down on the sofa. “We will warn Superman, and have other heroes aid us!”

“And his backup plan? His other backup plans? Will we be able to save every city, every life? Work until our fingers bleed? Until our eyes fail and we too fall?”

“Then we will stop him!” Damian snarled, whipping around to face Tiresias, prepared to tear her apart with words for being so callous. But he stopped when he saw her crying. Not golden tears on dark cheeks, but simple, ordinary tears. He stilled, suddenly uncertain. She spoke before he could even try.

“What, when he finally gets you? When he turns you into a creature like him?”

Damian felt his blood beginning to freeze, but he refused to let the fear have any hold over him. Instead, he cleared his throat, voice pitched as calmly and carefully as he did when dealing with scared children as Robin. “Tiresias... what was in the box?”

The box on the counter, a little damp at the edges. The very mention of which made her tense, her delicate smile trying desperately to hold up the scaffold of her face. She opened her mouth to speak. Say something defusing, perhaps. But all that came out was a traitorous croak, and her eyes widened, the smile shattering. He watched her raw expression, like an open wound, before she suddenly closed off. Her face, becoming a smooth expanse of marble. Perfectly neutral. Perfectly empty. 

”I’m sorry, little wing. You cannot look.”

“I cannot look?” Damian repeated, voice disbelieving. His calm tone fell away as he stood up, stance firm. “I am not a child to be protected. Your services do not extend to sheltering me to the point of suffocation!” The underlying, of course, _why are you helping me?_

“I made a promise to protect you, Damian. To Richard. If there was no one else left to. I-“

Damian shoved past her, grabbing the box off the counter. Tiresias had her hands outstretched, and the brown in her eyes had returned. The mask was cracking. The marble statue, falling away. 

“No one else left?”

“It’s my fault. Do not blame yourself,” she croaked. He opened the box.

Alfred. Cassandra. Duke. Stephanie. Smiling faces. Smiling, skin bleached white. Only faces. Lips stained red. Smiling. Dead. Gone. A crumpled piece of paper, a cartoon bat drawn on it. The words, “Sending a message? Be careful who you call. I’m all ears (haha!!),” scribbled in Bruce Wayne’s familiar scrawl. A threat. A promise. And Damian-

Damian dropped the box.

Tiresias was in front of him, he realized. She was kneeling down. She was speaking, but he couldn’t hear the word. She had shoved the box out of view. She was speaking, and then she let the mask fall, reaching out. Her arms wrapped around Damian. She tugged him close to her chest, until the entire world had been blocked out. She smelled like sea salt and honeysuckle, and she was warm. It felt like being young again, being safe, his Mother when she had loved him. It was weak. It was... comforting. It was something his Father had never done, never quite like this, and a part of Damian desperately grappled with the fact that it felt like safety. Damian realized Tiresias was speaking softly as she held him through the sudden attack of terror and panic.

“It’s not your fault. Breathe. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have let you make the phone call. I’m sorry. Breathe. We will stop him. We will. It will be okay.” 

He felt something like tears in his hair, from her eyes. Her hands were on on his arms. The future. Was that the future? They would stop Batman, she repeated. So they would. Then, it wouldn’t be okay, but it would be enough. 

Damian released her. He wasn’t crying, but he still cleared his throat, looking her in the eyes and past the gold. 

“You will help me stop him.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Damian nodded. He didn’t look behind her, and instead, turned around to the living room. “I will get changed. We will leave when I am done.”

Tiresias gave a small smile. It was grim, too, and he felt the way it promised violence. Whatever she had seen in her vision, it would be okay, he was assured. If she had truly sworn to Grayson that she’d protect Damian, then he knew she would. 

“We will end him. That is a future he cannot change,” she promised. 

More than anything, Damian believed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Tiresias sometimes goes ‘well, I suppose we could change this one little thing’. With the phone call last chapter. Damian likely never would have forgiven her for not letting him call, so she decided to change that one little thing. What’s the harm, she figured? This, apparently. Poor Tiresias. Poor Damian
> 
> Tiresias is very huggy. Despite the fact that it is slowly killing her. Well. Cast your votes in the comments for how Batman should die
> 
> Also I love all your comments. Thank you for sending them! I’m just never gonna reply bc I have anxiety


	6. Chapter 6

They left. 

“Take what you need. We will not be coming back,” Tiresias stated. Damian understood the meaning. It was a war declaration, and it was an exile. It was a box on the floor, tucked near the fridge, next to half-peeled oranges. Damian had his uniform on, his sword at his side, but he lingered in the living room as he held Grayson’s old sweatshirt in his hand. It was useless sentiment to want to take it. But to imagine leaving it here, to be reduced to ash, hurt more. Like leaving the- remains of his family, simply in a box in the kitchen. 

Tiresias, damnable Tiresias, far too observant despite her blindness, was behind him between breaths. She made a show of tilting her head back and forth. “A sweatshirt would be a good disguise. Until we are safe, of course.”

“Of course,” Damian repeated, but slipped the sweatshirt on over his costume, something like grief weighing just a little less suffocatingly as the material settled. Tiresias was standing at the door as Damian walked to her. The box in the kitchen, the lives of everyone in the city. Damian felt it curdle in his gut. 

“We will make Batman pay,” Damian hissed. Because the only thing they could do now was stop him before he did anything worse. Save the world, and what was left of it. Tiresias pushed the door open silently, and tugged it closed out of habit, her fingers lingering on the doorknob. Damian made a face, then sniffed.

“Come now, Tiresias. We must get moving.” He grabbed her arm with his gloved hand, leading her away from yet another home to be destroyed. She allowed him to. 

“Wally is dead. I liked him.” Her face twitched. “He once gave me a durian from Indonesia. And replaced Wonder Girl’s shampoo with silly string.” A wistful expression appeared in her eyes, only to fall. “She’s dead too. With the rest of the Titans.”

Damian winced, certain she couldn’t see it. He knew that Wonder Woman had treated Wonder Girl like family as well. Perhaps Tiresias was mourning her too. “I’m sorry,” because that seemed like the best thing to say in this situation, as pitiful as it was. 

“Don’t be. I didn’t like her. Oh, an alley. Stop here.”

Doing as he was asked, Damian tugged Tiresias to a stop. The alley was damp and gritty, but not threatening like many, if not all of the alleyways in Gotham. Tiresias was feeling along the wall with an expression of obvious intrigue. 

“... What are you doing?”

She startled. “Oh. Our plan. I’m sorry, I forget what or when I say things. Mister Constantine owes me a favor.”

Damian had been told quite a few things about John Constantine, the largest of which was, ‘never associate with him’. Tiresias knocked on a few bricks, before calmly laying her cheek against the stones, face placid. Damian watched with something like concern and anticipation.

“Constantine. I know you’re in there,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, and her voice was deep, deep like the ocean, tugging like the tide. Something like a chill seemed to emanate from her. “Open up, please.”

The brick wall shivered.

“Go away. I don’t recall owing any favors to you, god’am seer.” The unmistakeable voice of John Constantine, grumbling and petulant. Damian couldn’t really even say he was impressed, with everything Tiresias managed to do. Still, he blinked. Especially as she didn’t move from he wall. 

“Mother and I walled off the Eye Of Etrigan for you.”

“Well, she’s a bit dead, so I don’t rightly think she’s gonna be much help with the bargain, is she?”

“Would you like to join her?” Tiresias breathed. There was silence. Then, she stepped away from the wall, just as it began to fall into itself, contorting and vanishing. A chamber appeared, or an untidy apartment, and in the middle stood John Constantine. Who looked particularly upset.

“Oh, great. You brought the bloody kid with you too? Fuck me, you don’t do anything in half measure,” Constantine hissed, ushering them in before the wall sealed back off. Tiresias did not appear affected at all by the exchange. Constantine hurried back and forth, moving objects here and there, stopping only briefly to take a swing from a flask.

“I thought you stopped drinking.”

“Did. Decided to keep it going, what with the world ending. Now!” He clapped, spinning to face them. “How can I get you two out of my hair as quickly as possible?”

Damian scowled. He quickly grew tired of this man’s attitude, and especially his behavior towards Tiresias. He made a noise like a hiss, or a growl. “You will show us respect, sorcerer, or I will cut your tongue from your mouth!”

Constantine didn’t look surprised, or very interested. “Oh, very original. Compensating for something, short stack?”

“Please do not antagonize my little brother, Johnathan. We will leave in a moment,” Tiresias stated. Damian stilled at the title of ‘little brother’, but she continued to fill the silence. “I require magical instruction. That is all.”

“That’s it?”

“Unless you cannot.”

John Constantine didn’t look particularly convinced, but shook his hands out, looking at her. “Right, fine. What’d’ya need then? Fireball? Sleep walking?”

“Escape.”

“An... escape ward? You shittin’ me?” He looked incredulous. Tiresias couldn’t see it, and likely didn’t care. She stood there, waiting, until Constantine threw up his hands. “Alright! Come here, I’ll write it on your arms, you memorize it, then you can sod off.”

Despite not having any magical ability, Damian went forward with Tiresias, watching as John Constantine traced the sigils on her arm. Instructing, guiding. Damian watched with a critical eye, memorizing the ward too, holding it in his mind. After all, if Tiresias should ever forget, then Damian would be the first to help her.

“And there you have it. You’re welcome, by the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the end of the world is happening and I have such a busy schedule,” Constantine said, lightly shoving them towards the exit. “Lovely to see you, hope you do well, and, oh- if you ever need my help again? Don’t.”

The door closed behind them, and disappeared from the wall. Tiresias didn’t seem entirely affected by it happening, simply glancing around. The same alleyway they came from, at least. She smiled softly. “I enjoy working with Jonathan. It’s a shame that Zatanna kills him.”

“Zatanna kills him?”

“For the Eye Of Etrigan. Jason Blood is there too. Something involving Batman, I think. It’s unclear.”

Damian frowned. “Should- we have warned him?”

“Perhaps. But no one can evade Batman forever.“

_The moment I involved, I sealed his fate_. It was unsaid, but it was implied. And a part of Damian’s skin crawled slightly at that, but he... understood why she did it, too, in ways. Trading one man’s life for the world. Or perhaps, one man’s life for Damian. Mother would never have done that. Batman _certainly_ would never have done that. But Tiresias would.

“Tiresias. You called me brother earlier,” Damian stated, looking to her quizzically. Saw her face brighten, just a little, and her distant eyes land on him.

“I did. I’m sorry if that was rude; I- promised to protect you, yes, but... we are all we have left, aren’t we?” She seemed wistful, the brightness in her face fading away into shadows, like the alley, soft and sad. “You are my family now. The blood of an Amazon flows through your heart, in your will. You are my brother as much as you could be, if you are willing.”

Brother. Damian looked at her, trying to find deceit in Tiresias’ face, in her stance. There was none. She was as she always was, dependable, strong, and constant. Damian felt a small smile fight its way to his face, though it was bitter too. His family was gone. Her family was gone. And it pained him, as he remembered what he lost, the smiles of his brothers and sister, the family dinners and shared jokes. What he could never have again. But Tiresias had lost just as much, remembered much the same, and was extending her hand to him in offering. In family. They could have that again, if different. There could be sibling jokes and family dinners and smiles, someday far away. If Damian accepted.

Grayson would have wanted him to be happy. 

And so, Damian huffed a little, but his smile lost the bitterness, gained something fragile again. “Tt. So long as I do not have to call you ‘big sister’.”

Tiresias laughed. It was almost a magical thing. “I was the youngest of the Amazons. I do not think I ever wish to be called ‘big sister’.”

“And the ‘blood of the Amazons’ that flows through me?” Damian’s voice was teasing, but only if you knew him well. “I don’t think they had any male Amazons.”

“They could have. As the last of the Amazons, I believe that makes me queen. If I say you are allowed to be one, then you are,” Tiresias stated. The sorrow had left her eyes, and there was happiness back again. Something soft like hope. A family. Something they both thought they had lost, and yet, here it was. It could be enough. It would be enough. 

Tiresias abruptly glanced up, sensing something in the sky. “Superman’s here. Good. We have a chance.” She then pushed off from the wall, waving an arm up and down. “Clark! Down here!”

A woosh. One moment, just a blank alley, and the next, the Man of Steel stood in front of both of them. Tiresias matched him in height, but that was where the similarities ended, especially with how battered and tormented Superman looked. The way his clothes were tattered, burnt near the edges, lightly dusted with rubble and flicks of blood. Tiresias’ face softened.

“We have a plan to stop Batman. Do you trust us?”

Superman finally gave a grim smile, “At this point, I’ll take any plan I can get. Is the Watchtower safe to talk at?”

Tiresias nodded. “As quickly as we can. Please.”

In the distance, there was the sound of a collapsing building, falling down onto a nearby neighborhood. The fruit vendor. Supergirl whizzed by, a moment too late, and Damian wondered at the merit of trading life for life. It didn’t matter now, though. Superman grabbed them both, picking them up into the air, and zipped off. 

Everything would be over soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things are coming to a head. Hopefully. I’ve got big plans ahead of me


	7. Chapter 7

Superman flew at a pace uncomfortable enough to be call breakneck, but he obviously was holding back, else he’d have reduced Damian and Tiresias to paste. Even then, it hardly took long for them to reach the Watchtower, and then Superman was setting them both down in the War Room. It had clearly been used extensively in the past days, but was devoid of anyone else to be seen, as the screens flashed with emergencies all across the globe. 

“I have a few minutes to talk, but I can’t stay for long,” Superman stated, frowning and looking anciently exhausted. “There’s so much going wrong right now, and with heroes disappearing by the dozens... sorry, right, your plan. Tiresias?”

“We will trap Batman.” Tiresias inclined her head. “He has no weakness, but he is still just a man. If we outsmart him, we can overpower him. Constantine supplied us with wards to ensure our survival. Before he died.”

“He’s dead?” Superman didn’t sound surprised, but more resigned. 

“Yes. I am sorry.”

Superman sighed and rubbed his face. “At least Ma and Pa are safe.”

“Is Jon okay?” Damian demanded. Superman hardly blinked at the interruption, but Tiresias- Tiresias, Damian noticed, stilled. Her face was still that carved expanse of marble, but there was a blankness in her blind eyes that spoke of ill. 

“I, yes. He’s with Lois and my parents in Kansas.” Superman smiled slightly. “Safe, thank Roa. I can’t imagine losing them.”

“I-“ Tiresias stopped. ”Yes. They must mean a lot to you.”

“Yes, so much. I- I’m sorry, you must miss Diana so much too, it’s rude of me to talk about my own family when you’re still grieving.” And Superman did look genuinely mournful, turning to Damian too. “You too. I know how much your brothers meant to you.”

“... yes. But, at least Jon is safe,” Damian shrugged uncomfortably. Something in Tiresias’ face burned, and abruptly, the placid mask fell away, replaced by something indescribable. Perhaps hurt, guilt, and wrath, mixed into one. The colors returned to her eyes as her expression animated.

“Batman wants to send a message. Clark, he will take everyone you’ve ever loved. They won’t be safe. He is immeasurably cruel.” She stepped closer to him before he could make any outcry at the statement. “I- Your family will be safe. I have a plan.”

This plan, Damian knew, was something new. That she must have planned originally on their sacrifice too. That Damian’s words had caused her to realize something, maybe. Reignite some empathy that must have been dulled by years. It- made him proud to call her sister.

“Give me your hand,” and Clark nodded, holding his hand out to her with an expression of something like grimness. “You will need to think of every place you could take them. Every place, Kal-El. Every future. It- it will be damaging. But it will work.”

“Tiresias, wait-“ Damian startled. Damaging? “There has to be a better way. You cannot harm yourself when we still need you!”

“I’m sorry, little wing. But I have to do this. No more families can die; I refuse.”

Damian understood. It ached, but he understood, and despite the sting of it, he was grateful that Tiresias was determined to be righteous. To bring justice. Perhaps it would have been faster, more guaranteed, if they let Superman’s family perish. But Jon was Damian’s friend. His family didn’t deserve that; he didn’t deserve that. And even if it was a guaranteed victory against Batman, to let them die- maybe it wasn’t worth it. 

Tiresias closed her hand around Superman’s. She closed her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the gold, dripping in thick lines and staining her already dirtied clothes. Her mouth fell open. Seconds passed. Fifteen. Thirty. At forty five, she made a noise like coming up to breathe after being underwater, tearing herself back and just barely being saved from the floor by Damian at her side.

“Tiresias!” He held her up, feeling the golden liquid wet his gauntlets and tunic. He didn’t care. She was unresponsive, and even Superman looked wary now. Letting the seconds drag out, letting her catch her breath. Finally, she ground out the words, as though they were being ripped from her throat with the action.

“The Safe House. In Tuscany. It- wards still up. Safe. Go.”

“Tiresias-“

Damian snapped, “What are you waiting for, you imbecile? Go! Before your family dies because of your hesitance.”

Superman left only an afterimage behind, albeit a reluctant looking one. Tiresias remained held up by Damian, and he carefully guided her towards a nearby chair, setting her down in it. He still held her arm even as she sat down.

“Tt. Foolish, taking a risk like that,” he grunted, ”You’re lucky you’re fine.”

He still fished out a cloth from his utility belt, handing it to her so she could wipe her face. But she was still semi catatonic, so Damian bit the inside of his cheek and frowned, taking the cloth back and doing it himself. Much like Grayson would do, when Damian had been hurt during patrol, and had to had the bleeding stemmed. Tiresias blinked slowly, and Damian held the cloth to her until the minutes passed and the bleeding stopped. Longer than it should have taken. Damage, she’d said. Fear cooled in his gut.

“Tiresias? You are alright, correct?” 

She shifted her head, looking to him. Silence again. Worrying silence, and Damian would have begun to panic, had she not spoken.

“He’s coming.”

He. Damian instantly knew what she was referring to: Batman. The tone of voice, and the fear, made it far too obvious to avoid. Tiresias shoved herself up from the chair, grabbing Damian’s arm so he wouldn’t fall from the action, and she narrowed her vacant eyes to the door.

“We have time. The armory- we can make it.”

“Will you be able to fight without your eyes?” Damian demanded, keeping pace with her as she ran out the door.

“Yes. I have- a plan. Trust me.”

Tiresias ran. She was fast, but it was clear she was holding back for Damian, even at his fastest. Still too slow. She jerked her head towards him, hunching over, still running. “Jump on my back! We need to move.”

Damian nodded, angling himself towards the wall. Grayson had taught him this. Run, channel the momentum to the wall, rush up the side, then- leap. Onto Tiresias’ back. What would normally be an attacking move was made passive, as Damian cinched his arms around her neck and she grabbed his legs. In an instant, she began to run faster. Much faster than before, it was clear. The Amazons were gifted with swiftness, Damian knew, but it was always different to see in person. Especially from his normally docile and calm-footed sister.

“Up ahead!” 

Tiresias turned. The armory door opened, sensing their movement and heat signatures, and Tiresias didn’t waste a moment as she sprinted inside. Towards Wonder Woman’s section near the back. She stopped just a breath from the case, and Damian leapt from her back, grabbing at the bracers, the sword. Not enough time for the full set. Tiresias made a mournful whisper as Damian helped her strap the bracers to her wrists.

”I wasn’t old enough to receive my own yet,” she laughed, but it was more of a sob, as she strapped the first one to her arm. “Amazons of age receive their own, crafted by their mothers. I-“ she strapped the last one on, “will bring honor to my mother’s memory.” The sword, tied tight at her waist; her expression, steel. “Batman will pay.”

Damian, likewise, shucked off Grayson’s hoodie, tossing it regretfully towards the wall. There would be time for grief later. Now was the time for wrath, and for justice. Damian drew his sword, just as Tiresias drew hers. 

“He is here?” 

She nodded.

Damian grit his teeth, and with a snarl, whirled around and shattered the glass of Batman’s suit case. It scattered to the ground, and the alarm overhead blared. 

“Intruders in the East Sector. Locking down all exits.”

“And now he is trapped,” Damian smiled darkly. Tiresias laughed, not like before, but grim. 

”Let’s make him pay, _little brother_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the fight scene we all have been waiting for. But I still have a few more tricks up my sleeve
> 
> And some fluff of course. The perfect mixture 
> 
> Let’s get this bread kings


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: canon-typical violence occurs. I shy away from graphic descriptions, but there is a battle here, so be warned.

Tiresias and Damian were in the central way station when they both felt it. A chill in the air, almost like terror in their bones; maybe some latent animal instinct, rearing its head again. Tiresias stiffened, and Damian shifted his feet every so slightly. Eyes held firmly on the main entrance.

The sounds came next. Tiresias heard them first, Damian noticed- the way she stiffened and stepped closer to him. Her empty eyes spoke of hurt, something like remorse, before crinkling at the edges and becoming vitriol. It wasn’t long after that Damian heard it too. Footsteps, with heavy boots. The clanking of metal chains. Fabric and Kevlar, rustling together. And laughter- awful, high pitched laughter. It sounded like giggles, and it took Damian a moment to realize they _were_ giggles. That it was the laughter of children. Batman had brought _children_ with him. The chains rattled more and the laughter grew louder, and Damian heard a voice that chilled him to the bone.

“Settle down now, boys. You’ll see him soon enough,” Batman cooed. Damian’s face warped with uncontrollable rage, and Tiresias’ mirrored the expression. Damian felt the howl of loss and grief so strongly, and he gripped his sword so harshly his knuckles ached. Grayson was gone. Alfred and Cassandra and everyone, gone. His father, gone too. Only a monster wearing his skin.

Batman entered the room.

He was slow. He strolled, more was the word, and his smile was stretched so wide he seemed more like he was walking into a gala, not a battle to the death. And it was saying something that his smile was the first thing Damian noticed, when the children were in the room too. The- five children, dressed in Robin costumes. Nearly identical to small, miniature Jokers. All jumping around and smiling and calling, “Crow, Crow.” The one closest them snapped and snarled, teeth sharp and glistening with hunger. Damian might as well have flinched, though he didn’t show it. Beside him, Tiresias’ breath hitched.

“Damian! There you are, son. We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Batman chided. He tilted his head, then chuckled, the sound warped like an old record. One of the rabid Robins leapt forward to attack, but Batman yanked him back harshly. “Down boy. Not yet.”

“Don’t- call me son,” Damian hissed, regaining his confidence. “You are _not_ my father.”

“And you’ve still got your attitude, too.”

“Those are children,” Tiresias interrupted. Her tone of voice was unplaceable. “You- you did this to children.“

Batman looked at her, his smile dropping just a touch. “Oh, now, aren’t you a surprise. Still filling Damian’s head with nonsense, seer?” He leaned forward slightly. “Did you both enjoy the present I left?”

“I’ll kill you for that!” Damian snarled, almost leaping forward. Tiresias grabbed his arm at the last second, stopping the move, but not before the feral Robins all chattered excitedly and began to bounce around, their sharp claws ringing out on the floor. And Batman simply laughed.

“It’s alright Damian; Come meet your brothers. You’ll be joining them soon enough.”

Batman released the chains.

All five of the crazed Robins rushed forward, one jumping in the air to try and tear through Damian’s shoulder. Tiresias moved faster than Damian’s dodge, shoving her braced into the Robin’s mouth, and then reaching over with her other hand and setting it on his arm. The interaction lasted a fraction of a second, before she pulled back and shoved him away. Her eyes were bleeding. She dodged right, kicking Damian’s leg left, and he narrowly avoided a swipe from deadly claws. As he leapt into the air, he watched her repeat the maneuver. Tap, release, move.

She was seeing the future. She was constantly predicting her own next move, constantly pulling Damian an inch away or two steps forward. She was pushing a temporary injury into something permanent. 

“They’re children! We cannot kill them!” Tiresias begged, just barely dodging snarling teeth for her neck. One of her wards shattered as she was a moment too slow to avoid a pounce from behind, and she threw the child far against the wall. Damian ducked low, letting Tiresias yank him forward to narrowly avoid a stab, and he scowled.

“We have no choice!”

“Save them, Tiresias,” Batman called, mocking from his place nearby. He swung his chain lazily in his hands. “You won’t let another person die, will you? What would your mother say?”

Tiresias roared. Her expression was feral, but it was saturated with grief, and as she grabbed another Robin to see the future, her expression only deepened with regret and acceptance. Damian understood. But he was not going to force her to kill a child. Not when he could do it without blinking. That, his mother had made sure of. Before Tiresias could swing her sword for a lethal blow, Damian ran low, shoving his sword high, and feeling the familiar sensation of a successful hit. There was something like a gurgle, and it was wet as Damian pulled his sword out.

Tiresias was on him in an instant. But not yelling, not growling. Just grabbing him and dragging him back as quickly as she could. A moment later, Damian understood why, as the other four Robins hissed and descended on their sibling with snarls of hunger. Even for Damian, the brutality of it made his stomach curdle. Batman laughed.

“You know, I never believed in fate before. But I think... I think this _was_ fate. My realization, my ‘ascension’. It’s obvious that my life was just leading up to this point. Tiresias, wouldn’t you agree?” Batman uncrossed his arms, stepping forward towards them. Tiresias and Damian stepped back.

“I don’t believe in fate,” Tiresias whispered. The sounds of flesh being torn had died down enough for her to be heard. Batman’s smile turned into a frown. It was almost... desperate, in a way.

“Really? I’ve been researching multiverse theory. There’s a whole different set of multiverses out there, different from our own. Brighter. The first one I found... is identical to ours. Up until... this point. So tell me, Tiresias- isn’t this fate?”

Tiresias clenched her hand around her sword. “No. Fate- ignores your choices, and fate absolves you of responsibility. Fate is a lie for loss. And you do not deserve the luxury of lying, you miserable, deplorable monster.”

And Batman had the gull to smile. “You really are like your mother. You’ll die screaming, too.”

He moved in the blink of an eye. Tiresias shoved Damian out of the way, deflecting the batarang with her bracers, but not the knife. Another ward gone. Damian dove forwards again, swinging his sword, hissing as Batman danced out of the way of the hits. His focus was on Tiresias.

“Kids! Come keep your brother company!” Batman shouted. The rabid Robins all perked up, before launching at Damian, their smiles running red with blood and gore.

“Crow! Crow!” They all giggled. Damian roared as he dove in to fight them. Eliminate them quickly, so he could help Tiresias. So he could save her. Batman wouldn’t be merciful, and no matter how good Tiresias was at combat, Batman would always be better. Damian needed to get there before it was too late.

It didn’t take long for the second Robin to go down. One stab through the chest, and then it was down for the count, still calling out ‘Crow, crow’ as it tried to get up to continue attacking. The third Robin managed to break through one of Damian’s wards, and the sensation was like feeling his stomach drop, without any of the pain afterwards. The teeth that tried to bite skin away, only to be blocked by magic. That Robin got a sword through the neck. The fourth and fifth both circled Damian, giggling, calling. Crow, crow. Damian’s mind stuck on the phrase, and he inhaled sharply, realizing the meaning. Todd’s uniform, the word Crow...

“Bar!” Damian snapped. The final two Robins stopped moving, looking at him expectantly. A command. A trigger phrase. Damian smiled viciously as he jumped towards them, slicing the throat of one and impaling another. A dull thump was the only sound they made. 

Damian turned back to Batman and Tiresias, moving to grab his sword again, only to freeze. She had one hand on Batman’s face, but she was frozen in a silent scream. Her whole body spasming. Damian howled, rushing towards them, but wasn’t fast enough to catch her as Batman cackled and-

Stabbed right through her.

The spray of blood was golden. It seemed to light up the room. It illuminated Tiresias’ face as she was wrenched backwards, her expression contorted. Batman was still laughing as she fell. 

“You really think I didn’t plan for this?!” He demanded, his laughter skittering across the walls. Damian shrieked with rage, going for an attack, anything.

“You monster! What have you done?!”

“Now now, Damian, don’t be like that!” Batman danced out of the way, treating every hit like it was nothing, like Damian wasn’t out for blood. “Come back with your father, and I’m sure your brothers will forgive you!”

“My brothers-“ Damian slammed his fist into Batman’s chest, “Are dead!”

Batman shook with laughter, before abruptly grabbing Damian by the wrists, effectively immobilizing him. Batman’s eyes were yellow, his pupils shrunk to almost nothing, and as he smiled, his teeth were jagged and predatory. “Still rude to your siblings... well, we can fix that.”

Damian hardly felt fear. But in this moment, as he watched Batman pull out some syringe of toxin, he felt it. The terror. Pure, and undiluted terror. No sword, no weapon, no way out. Damian kicked and screamed, biting into Batman’s hand to force him to let go. And then-

A hand yanked Batman’s arm back. A dark hand, covered in gold, and Tiresias’ face, shadowed venomously. She squeezed his wrist until there was the sound of bones breaking, and Batman’s laughter turned to enraged, guttural sounds. He dropped Damian to the ground- right next to Tiresis’ sword. 

“I’ve always wanted to see what makes you tick!” Batman snarled, slashing the knife dangerously close to Tiresias’ face. She blocked it with her bracers, barely. Couldn’t dodge the stab through her shoulder, though, nor the one after that across her arms. There was a shattering sound through the air, as her final ward was broken. She caught the knife between her bare hands. Batman smiled. Blood dripped down. 

“Get away-“ Damian roared, “from my sister!”

He thrust the sword forward. Batman, too focused on Tiresias, couldn’t dodge. Instead, he made a surprised, gasping laugh. It bubbled past his lips, down his face, and he kept laughing as he stumbled backwards.

“Good- boy... got your dad- good-“ Batman choked. The blood in his lungs would do that. Damian shook with rage, staring him down.

“You are _not_ my father.”

And then, Damian rushed past Batman, towards Tiresias, splayed out on the ground. The knife was- it was in her chest. Damian froze.

“Dami...” she whispered. That snapped him into action, and he rushed forward, eyes wide with fear. 

“Tia!” She was bleeding out. The same gold from her eyes, it was her _blood_. And there was so much of it, staining the floor, flooding across metal and skin. She was barely breathing at all. Each sound was labored and strained, but she still looked at him with that distant smile. 

“You’re safe now. Promised.” 

“Not like this! You can’t do this- you can’t leave me! Sister!”

“Okay now. Love you...” she was fading fast. There wouldn’t be enough time to get her to the medical wing, or call any kind of doctor. She was going to die. Damian was going to lose his only family, he was going to fail again. No. No, no- no!

“I won’t let you!” Damian snarled. He- the wards. The wards! The escape sigil! Damian drenched his hands in the golden blood, frantically drawing the lines across the floor. Escape. Swipe here, drag here. Each symbol was as precise as Damian’s shaking hands could allow, and just as quick. Already, they began to glow a faint gold. Escape. Escape to somewhere safe. Please, somewhere safe. Somewhere to save Tiresias. Please, please, please! The last sigil went down, and Damian grabbed Tiresias’ hand like a vice, ignoring the tears in his eyes as he shook. Why wasn’t it working? No- it had to work- it-

“Escape,” Batman choked out the command from nearby. Where the yellow in his eyes had disappeared, where he took his last, dying breath. The sigils all glowed as one, a radiant lightshow in the darkness, and Damian turned his shocked face to the man who was once his father. There were tears there. 

And then, the sigil flashed once, and Damian and Tiresias were gone.

Batman closed his eyes, his heart stopping in his chest. He had so many regrets in his life, but if Damian could live and be loved- at least he did that right.

And so he died. 

And in another universe, Damian and Tiresias reappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAA sorry I’m a sucker for sad things. Batman becoming sane again right as he dies is Good shit
> 
> Damian wins brother of the year award also
> 
> Let’s see how this story ends


	9. Chapter 9

They fell.

Damian landed on the ground in a heap, his hands shooting out to break his fall. He felt exhausted. It was like all of the air had been punched out of his lungs, and he exhaled as he tried to stand up. Couldn’t. Fell down again, this time grabbing blindly for Tiresias. Could hear her sounds of pain, but no matter how Damian tried, he felt his vision getting darker, unconsciousness looming. His hands fell back into the dirt.

“Sister...” Damian breathed. There was the barest sound of movement, and then Tiresias set her hand on his. Dying in the dirt, where Damian couldn’t even save her. Away from Batman, but still not enough. 

But before unconsciousness claimed Damian, he heard shouting. The sound of footsteps sprinting towards them. And female voices, pitched with surprised horror.

“Quickly, bring them to a healer!”

And that was all Damian knew before he passed out.

When he next woke, it was on a soft bed, with the smell of healing herbs on his nose. Damian’s eyes shot open an instant after, not wasting any time on savoring the feeling of peace and contentment. The room was bright and airy, and the woman at the back of it blinked as she saw him wake. Her clothes- they were the garb of the Amazons. Which meant that either this was an elaborate joke, or this must have been Themyscira. 

“She is awake,” the woman called to people unseen, before making her way over to him, a bowl of some shimmering liquid in her hands. “Do not strain yourself, little sister. You must rest- exhaustion is a serious injury.”

Little sister? Damian scowled, unwrapping his arms from his chest. “Who are you to speak to me in such a way?” For what else could it be, if not an insult? But the healer didn’t look startled, and instead, lowered her head in a soothing motion, a pale mirror of Tiresias’.

“Forgive me, sister. I remember how frustrated I was before I received my coming of age bracers too.” And then she smiled, like it was a fond memory. “I’m sure you’re quite the fierce warrior. You’ll get your bracers soon.”

“I am not,” Damian hissed, “your ‘sister’. I am-“ a pause. Damian Wayne. Al Ghul? Certainly neither, not anymore. “I am _Damian_.”

But the healer only looked confused now. She set the bowl down, reaching over to check his temperature, only for Damian to bare his teeth and lean back. She frowned. “I- you are an Amazon, little one. The blood of the Amazons flows through your heart and will. What would I call you, if not sister?”

A-

An Amazon. Tiresias- Tiresias had said, before, that Damian had the blood of an Amazon. And it would be foolish to even presume that ~~father~~ Batman would not have noticed such a thing during his tests, which meant it was recent. Which meant that, as Tiresias and himself had joked, and she proclaimed him Amazon by her right as queen... 

The gods must have been listening.

If the Queen of the Amazons willed it, then it would be.

Suddenly, Damian didn’t have any words left. It had, of course, been banter between two siblings. A meaningless statement by Tiresias. It wasn’t supposed to be literal. At least, he didn’t think it was supposed to be. But as he sat on the bed, staring in shock at the healer, he wondered- was it truly so bad? To be related to Tiresias by blood, as well as choice? Perhaps not.

But speaking of Tiresias...

“Where is my sister?!” Damian demanded. Last he had seen of her, it had been as she was bleeding out in the dirt of the island that was once her home. An island that should have been destroyed. Still, all that mattered now was finding his sister and ensuring her safety. Everything else was- unimportant. “Where is Tiresias?!”

The healer looked even more confused, if that was possible, before biting her cheek. “The one you were found with? She is in the other room, I- wait, stop!”

Damian didn’t listen. He effortlessly leapt over her, landing behind her before she could blink, and then rushing out the door. If she was lying, she would pay. If not, then Damian might even thank her. The halls of what must have been Themyscira seemed to be made for giants, but Damian spun on his heel, rushing into the room right beside his. The curtain was thrown back without hesitation. And there, on the bed, was-

“Tia!” Damian exclaimed. He ran to her bedside and threw himself upon her. She startled, but smiled wide, wrapping Damian in a hug with what seemed like all of her strength.

“Dami! I was just going to go looking for you!” Tiresias spoke into his hair, playfully rubbing her face through it. Damian laughed- laughed, to her surprise!- and pushed her away somewhat so that he could examine her. She seemed to be in good health; no lingering bruises to be seen, except a nasty one near her throat, and all the stab wounds were bandaged up. The only thing that was wrong was... 

“Tiresias, your eyes,” Damian frowned. She frowned in turn, but the colorless, blank eyes remained.

“Ah. I am sorry, little wing. The healers tried their best, but they believe the damage is-“ she looked wistful, “permanent.”

Damian’s hand curled in the fabric of her shirt. Her face softened and became warm again, familiar. “Do not worry. As long as you are safe, I’m sure I can live without my eyesight.”

“You could have died,” Damian stressed. “Did you consider that? That I would have been left without you?”

“You would have been safe. You would have been alive.”

“Not without you!” Damian shouted, and it took him a moment to realize he was crying. He angrily wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, but Tiresias, damnable Tiresias, always knew.

“You’re right,” she said instead, instead of mocking or chiding or evading the fault, “I should have considered how you feel. I am sorry.”

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Both Damian and Tiresias turned to face them, and it was Damian who voiced his surprise first. 

“Wonder Woman?” Damian squawked. Diana of Themyscira nodded, continuing as though he hadn’t spoken.

“You gave the healer quite the scare, little one. Forgive me for interrupting, but I came to check on the two of you. And to ask how you both ended up so injured.”

But Tiresias didn’t seem to be listening. She was fixated on the sound of her Mother’s voice, even though she could not see her. It was like hope. Like security. She spoke, whisper soft and precarious, “Mother?”

Damian would never forgive Wonder Woman for what she said next.

“Pardon? I do not believe we have met before, sister. What is your name?”

Tiresias made a sound like dying. It was muted and muffled, quickly suffocated in her throat, but the deed was done. Her face, expressive a moment ago, became smooth and placid. 

“I am Tiresias. My brother and I require an audience with the Justice League.”

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow at the word ‘brother’, looking at and through Damian for a moment before nodding. “This truly is an interesting development. Come, I will bring you to the Watchtower and you can explain.”

Tiresias, no longer ‘of Themyscira’. Damian, no longer of Wayne. Outcasts from their families. But a family together, and that was enough. Tiresias stood up from the bed, and Damian followed, leading her down the halls of what was once her home and hoping his comfort was enough.

The trip through the Boom Tube was disorientating, as always. Tiresias cling to the wall as she regained her senses, and Damian stumbled only slightly. Wonder Woman eyed them with concern, but Damian hissed at her, daring her to get close enough to break his sister’s heart again. At least the woman was smart enough to understand that. She backed off, leading them through a Watchtower that looked pristine, yet different. Subtle things here and there, or larger things like the layout, the shade of gray. Even the air had a very subtle different, but it made the picture all the more clear: this was not the Earth they called home. Perhaps it should have been obvious the moment they landed on Themyscira, but it was even more obvious as they were lead into the meeting room, and there sat heroes who had been dead only hours prior. Dead in a different world, but not this one. The Flash waved to them, and Shazam laughed at a joke Constantine made from the sidelines. 

“Everyone. Please, return to your seats. We will begin the meeting shortly,” Wonder Woman said. The gaggles of heroes all began to filter back to their seats, and Tiresias tightened her hold on Damian’s cape when one would pass by. Not that Damian blamed her. J’onn gave them both a glance that spoke volumes, but thankfully said nothing. And once everyone was seated, it seemed as though the meeting could begin. Tiresias calmly walked up to the front of the table, and her expression was placid, like a smooth pane of glass. Only Damian could see her subtle trembling; the way her hand shook just so.

“Greetings. My name is Tiresias, and this is Damian. We are from an... alternate Earth.” Tiresias trailed off, and Damian carefully nudged her for her to continue. “One where-“

The door to the room opened. 

“Batman killed almost everyone...”

Damian looked over. Of course, it was then that Batman walked in. He looked- he looked like always. Steadfast and strong. Not someone who would kill his entire family. But, then again, looks could be deceiving. After all, Batman had killed three of his children in cold blood, and skinned the faces of the rest of his family. Had left his sons to bleed out on the floor of the Batcave as he simply drank a glass of water, even as Drake had made horrible gasping noises as he choked on his own blood, as Grayson had tried to crawl to Todd, as-

Oh. Tiresias had covered Damian with her shirt. It smelled of sea water and clay, and her skin was cool to the touch, and it took Damian a moment to realize that she was shielding him. Comforting him. She was also growling. It must have been an Amazon thing. Damian wondered if he could growl too, now that he was an Amazon apparently. 

“Easy now. This Batman is one of the good guys,” Superman assured. But Tiresias clutched Damian closer still. 

“We thought the same thing too.”

“This ‘other’ Batman,” Batman interrupted, voice calm and almost soothing. Unfamiliar. “What did he do?”

Tiresias eased up on holding Damian, but only because Damian had managed to somewhat wiggle out of her cloth hold. Just enough to look at this Batman with quiet mistrust. It was Damian who opted to speak.

“He killed his sons,” Damian rasped. “Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin.”

“Why not you too?” Hawkgirl tilted her head. “Even our Damian cannot best Batman in battle yet.”

“I saved him,” Tiresias stated, drawing Damian a little closer could as though they would try to take him. 

“And who _are_ you?” Shazam sounded genuinely curious, not malicious. 

“Tiresias, daughter of. Wonder Woman. I am a seer.”

“Diana has a kid?” Flash asked.

“No, I do not. At least, not in this dimension,” Wonder Woman looked somewhat sad. It was pity, Damian realized, and even though Tiresias couldn’t see it, he still bristled for her.

“Batman killed heroes, too. Flash. Shazam. So many others. Entire countries razed in the blink of an eye...” Tiresias carefully began to let go of Damian, but it was clearly reluctant. “It wasn’t... it wasn’t his fault.”

“Not his fault?” Cyborg sounded disbelieving.

“The Joker released a toxin when he died,” Damian spat. “It replaced my father with a monster, and nothing more. That Batman we killed was not my father; it was just a sick dog we had to put down.”

“You killed him?” Batman didn’t show any emotion in his voice, but it still sounded judgmental. It always had been, before. Always something to prove.

“And if we hadn’t, he would have forced Kal-El to rip apart his family limb from limb,” Tiresias’ voice had regained the distant, faded quality to it as she closed herself off. “J’onn may search my memory to see it.”

J’onn nodded. He gracefully went to Tiresias’ side, as opposed to asking her to come towards him, and by proxy, Batman. There was a brief moment of silence, as J’onn probed her mind and Damian readied himself for a battle, even if there wouldn’t be one. And just as suddenly, the moment passed. J’onn looked grim. Not pitying, at least, but sad in a way. Understanding. The Martian silently placed a hand on Tiresias’ shoulder, lowering his head. He said nothing, for nothing needed to be said. Then, he stepped back.

“Tiresias speaks only the truth. I must excuse myself from the rest of the meeting, however, as the volume of information she gave me was... complex. My apologies.”

The instant J’onn left, it was like a controlled chaos broke out over the room. Everyone was struggling to keep their voices to a whisper, but they kept looking to Tiresias like she might say more. But, all she seemed focused on was alternating torn looks between Wonder Woman and frowns to Batman. Superman, who was unforunately caught in the middle, looked uncomfortable. Wonder Woman, of course, was the first to choose to quietly step towards Tiresias to speak to them alone.

“Sister. You have strange magic on you, and so does your brother. It is as though you are one of us, but farther away. Distant. Were you the last of the Amazons?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Tiresias shifted.

“Yes.”

“That is truly a loss I cannot ever understand. Would you like to come back to Themyscira with me when I leave? Our sisters would welcome you with open arms.”

Damian wrinkled his nose somewhat at that idea. Stuck in a land where they refused to understand his gender, where Tiresias would be forever reminded of what she had lost. It didn’t seem as perfect as Diana believed. Tiresias, evidently, thought the same.

“I am sorry... sister. But, to live in a land that is an echo of my home, and walk by the woman who was once my mother and now doesn’t even know me... it would kill me. I cannot.”

Wonder Woman nodded, and the expression of remorse remained. Guilt, that Tiresias would remain placeless. She turned to Damian next.

“And what of you, little Robin? It has been years since I’ve seen you so young, but Batman would still find a place for you if you desired it.” The words were meant to sound enticing or encouraging, but Damian could only taste bile in them. He could barely stand to be in the same room as Batman, even with every meta in the world there with him. There would be no world where Damian could stand to patrol with him now, to pretend at being a happy family like before. Damian shook his head.

“I’ll pass.”

“Then where will you go?”

It was the million dollar question. Everyone in the room seemed to turn to them, waiting to hear what they had to say. The most exciting topic of the hour. The children out of time. Tiresias glances down at Damian, and he looked up to her. It was clear neither of them had an answer to that question. But they did have an answer, perhaps, to another.

“I do not know. But, I know we will be together wherever we go.” Tiresias smiled. It was the smile Damian had seen before, the one reserved for him, for siblings together against the world. He smiled back. Yes- because no matter what, they had each other. This, Damian knew, would never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo. So I’m definitely doing an epilogue to this chapter to show off what happens after this. But other than that I’d say this story is done. Mostly. There’s still questions ™ though, like...
> 
> What if Damian meets his brothers in this dimension?  
> What do they do now?  
> Are they truly safe?  
> And so much more ™ 
> 
> Be sure to write your thoughts in the comments. Suggestions for future content, ideas of what their new last names should be (if any), etc etc. I always enjoy reading the comments, because they brighten my day. Cya!


	10. Chapter 10

It was warm in the city. Keystone City, for the very least, wasn’t very bad about being warm when it counted. Though it made up for that with wind. Tiresias enjoyed sitting on the roof of the apartment building and playing at catching the wind; Damian enjoyed using it to glide after criminals during patrol. And on the off occasion that the wind would blow Damian completely out of the sky, Tiresias would always been just an inch away to catch him, and subsequently launch him right at the terrified criminals.

The apartment had been Damian’s idea. Mostly. He had wanted something befitting of his station, and Tiresias wanted something near the sky. Neither had any money to speak of, and to be honest, neither really understood how it worked. Tiresias understood it as a general idea, but less in practice. Damian struggled with the idea of cutting costs (“I refuse to buy generic brands!”). It was, mostly, a miracle that they found an apartment that would let them stay. The miracle was less miraculous when they found out that it was because of a Wayne Foundation grant. Damian turned the letter into origami shurikens to be launched at the wall. 

At least they didn’t have to worry about a safety deposit. 

When Damian and Tiresias weren’t fighting crime at night, they would laze about during the day. Tia would teach her brother about the history of Themyscira, or coach him in further ward practice for the future. Damian would teach her escape maneuvers, or how to make a makeshift bomb from common household cleaning products. And when neither had anything to do, they might walk in the park or visit museums, or simply enjoy their company together as a family. It was... nice.

Lately, the Flash had, it seemed, noticed them on patrol. And he had lots of things to say about “two children, fighting armed criminals at two am- don’t you have school tomorrow? Do you even have school? Oh my God-“. Tiresias thought it was endearing and delightful, but in Damian’s opinion, she thought anything was delightful. She had called a fence with a dog hole in it delightful. Though, it was delightful, so Damian could only agree. But not about the Flash interfering in their patrols. More and more, the red menace kept appearing, and honestly, Damian would trip him off a building the next time he saw him. They certainly didn’t need any help from other vigilantes.

It had been another long night before. Damian found himself waking up slower than usual, his normal alarm turned off as he shoved his head deep into his pillow and fought sleep off again. Just a few more minutes, maybe. Or hours. These days, he found himself less and less startled as he awoke in the apartment and not Wayne Manor, and it couldn’t be long until the brief confusion went away entirely. No Alfred in the morning, no brothers to insult. But Damian could hear Tiresias peeling oranges in the kitchen, and that was all he could ask for, after everything that had happened.

“Good morning, sister,” Damian greeted, stepping out of his bedroom and walking towards the kitchen. She waved. Peaches today with oranges, and something else, like a hairy cantaloupe. She smiled with red teeth from pomegranate.

“Good morning, Dami. Wally dropped off fruit.”

Hm. “You’re sure it’s not poisoned?” He eyed the fruit dubiously. She tilted her head.

“I imagine poison would kill him faster, with his enhanced metabolism, and he ate some of the fruit. No, I don’t think so,” and just like that, she continued eating the various fruit. Damian took a cautious bite of one and found it acceptable- he wondered if Tiresias could tell that it had been brought from its native regions. 

“Was that all he did?”

“He told us to get more vitamin c. So we don’t get hepatitis.”

“Did he mean... scurvy?”

“Probably.”

Tiresias stopped eating, eyes widening. “Oh! One moment, I have something for you...” she said, disappearing from view as she hurried off, followed by the sounds of rummaging and items nearly falling. Finally, she returned, much slower and more careful. She looked uncertain, which was as rare as a harvest moon to Damian. She held something behind her back. 

“Damian,” she cleared her throat, “before... when we spoke about you being an Amazon. I told you of the bracers a family would make the youngest.”

Damian nodded. “Wonder Woman was never able to finish yours.”

Tiresias looked sad for a moment, before letting it drift away. “Yes. It signifies that you are ready to fight your own battles, both... literally, and physically. It is a mark of strength and maturity. Since you are an Amazon, I thought... that I would make you a pair.” And she set the bracers down in front of Damian, revealing the surprise. They shined, though they were a dark metal of some kind, and as Damian looked closer, he realized there were wards engraved in the metal itself- wards that pulsed the faintest of gold. Tiresias looked incredibly proud, yet equally bashful.

“I inscribed wards in them for you. They are discrete for battle, if you do not wish to wear them in place of suit gauntlets, and they are capable of deflecting a number of weapon attacks. I... hope you like them, little brother.” 

For a moment, Damian was speechless. Which didn’t happen often. In theory, he knew that he was an Amazon, but in practice, it didn’t mean much. A little faster, a little stronger, a feeling of warmth in the sunlight. But seeing these bracers in front of him reminded him. Reminded him that Tiresias was truly, irrevocably his family. And that not only was she his family, but she cared. Enough to forge metal on her own for a tradition from a dead world. 

“Sister. I-“ Damian held the bracers in his hands. They were so lightweight, it was like they weren’t there at all. Yet they were warm to the touch. Each inch of it screamed craftsmanship, and most importantly, love. Damian smiled. “Thank you. I love them.”

It was a sign of family. It was a sign of maturity, of trust, of love. It was a piece of home that Tiresias was sharing with Damian, and one he embraced, just as he stood up and embraced her now. She hugged him back, squeezing him a little and lifting him off the ground just to hear his halfhearted protests and the hidden laughter. 

Yes, Damian missed his family. He missed Grayson, and Cassandra, Pennyworth- even Drake, even Todd. But the ones here were not his. They were close, but not quite; Grayson didn’t like pineapples on pizza, and Pennyworth wasn’t allergic to cats, and Drake’s favorite color wasn’t baby blue. They were a family that wasn’t his. Damian ached to see them, but he couldn’t bear to yet- not to be reminded of what he had lost and would never get back. Later, perhaps, when the scars hurt less. And maybe someday he could see Batman again without feeling his heart freeze and his mind turn to ice on fire. Maybe. 

Until they, Damian had Tiresias, and she had him. It wasn’t perfect at times, but it was enough. 

~~Now if only the Flash would leave them alone too.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it for this story! I have an idea for a sequel, and even a potential sequel sequel, but time will tell if they pan out. At the very least, I’m glad you all enjoyed reading this. It was really fun to write, even if I fucked Up the timeline reaaaal bad . Whatever
> 
> Long live the dead Batman


End file.
